The Butterfly Effect
by HobbleFoot.11
Summary: It's the summer after sixth year, and Harry is alone, tormented by nightmares. But he's not the only one. What happens when ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy shows up totured and near death and needs Harry's help? Manipulative Dumnledore. no slash. enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**The Butterfly Effect**

**By: Hobblefoot.11**

**Disclaimer: None is mine. And it never will be. Life sucks.**

**Plus, I know other people have done similar stories, and so I'll say I did not come up with this idea. I just wanted to write a similar one that way I wanted. **

**Authors Note: This takes place just before Harry's seventh years, two days after his seventh birthday. He moved out of Privite Drive and moved to a flat in London. Only Ron and Hermione know about it, but somehow Draco finds out. Harry didn't tell Dumbledore or even Remus he was moving out. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him. Also, this includes a manipulative Dumbledore. Harry/Draco FRIENDSHIP, not slash. Just so you know. **

**This story contains strong language and brief mentions of rape in this chapter and possibly others, if that offends you, you might want to read another story. **

**Chapter One: A Visitor in the Night**

Harry Potter had dozed off at his kitchen table, his head on the homework he was supposed to finish before returning for his seventh year at Hogwarts. He had just turned seventeen a few days ago, and had immediately moved out of Privite Drive to his own flat in London. Only Ron and Hermione knew he was there, Dumbledore and even Remus hadn't even bothered to check on him on his birthday. Where did they expect him to go? No one had spoken to him about it, so he assumed Dumbledore had wanted him to stay with the Dursley's. Fat chance.

Ever since he had learned the old man had hidden something as important as the prophecy from him for fifteen years of his life, he had lost what little bit of respect he had left for the man. In fact, Harry found he couldn't trust many of the Order members, afraid that they would report everything to Dumbledore. He wasn't sure if he was returning for his seventh.

Harry had spent much time the past two years learning everything he could. He had decent Occlumency shields, enough to keep most of the nightmares at bay, but not the horrific ones. Last night he had watched through Voldemort's eyes as his Death Eaters raped several Muggle women and young girls. He had spent a better part of the night in the bathroom, puking his guts out.

Voldemort would never lower himself to touch Muggles, and for that Harry was extremely grateful. He wasn't sure if he could handle being in the head of the man raping them, feeling his emotions. It was bad enough watching them from a bystander's eyes. Needless to say, he doubted he had gotten more than four hours of sleep last night.

Another thing he had worked on was his potions. He had to admit, without Snape breathing down his neck all the time he was fairly good at it. He made several pain-relieving potions and dreamless sleep potions for himself, and keep several other healing potions on hand. Harry's knowledge of spells, Dark and Light, was also increasing.

Suddenly Harry was awoken by a sharp rap on his door. He blinked, confused. Who would show up at this hour? Death Eaters? It seemed the only possibly exclamation. A quick glance at his watch told him it was almost 1:40 am. He stood, grabbed his wand off the table and held it tightly in his fist, ready for an attack.

The person (or persons) at the door knocked again.

He made his way to the doorway, and grasped the handle firmly, muttering a few spells to deactivate the locking spells, and pulled the heavy door open in one quick motion.

Who couldn't make out who the person was in the dark, just that they were about his height and wearing a black hood and cloak, hunched over so his couldn't see their face.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Harry growled, his wand pointed at their chest.

"I... It's Draco Malfoy," Croaked the all too familiar voice. "I need your... help." It sounded like he was chocking on the words. How in the hell he had found Harry, he didn't know.

"Why do you need _my_ help, Malfoy?" Harry asked, ready to curse him the second he lifted his wand.

"Can I come in?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"Yeah right," Harry laughed, completely awake now, "Sorry, but I don't house Death Eaters. 'Sides, how do I know you're Voldemort in disguise or something?"

"I'm not a Death Eater anymore, Potter." Malfoys aid, sticking his arm out and pulling back the sleeve.

"Lumos," Harry muttered, curious, peering at his arm. And there was the Dark Mark, but it had a long white slash through it and it was almost completely black, still trickling blood." "What the hell did you do, Malfoy?"

He laughed, but it came out a cough. He tried to say something, but the effort seemed too much and he dropped to all fours and started retching, coughing up blood.

Harry didn't know why he did it, but he bent down and grabbed Malfoy's arms, pulling him shakily to his feet and dragging the semi-conscious teen inside, kicking the door shut behind him and muttering a quick locking spell. He pulled Malfoy's limp body to the kitchen, and once they were in the light Harry saw that his robes were ripped and torn, and covered in an alarming amount of blood.

Harry would have thought it would have been impossible for him to get her, but he did. He gave him a quick look over, and decided he must have a lot of internal bleeding for him to cough up that much blood. Harry managed to bring him to the kitchen and put him in the closest chair where he slouched weakly. He wasn't surprised to find the ex-Death Eater passed out.

A quick spell removed Malfoy's robes, leaving him in torn shirt and slacks. He quickly pulled off his shirt, only to have him moan in pain. Harry examined him to find several whip marks on his back and definite signs of the Crutiartus Curse. The born in his right leg was defiantly shattered, and once again the Boy Who Lived was astounded the injured teen had made it to him.

Four ribs were broken and six fingers, both shoulders were dislocated and someone had carved the word TRAITOR into his chest. From the way Malfoy was struggling to breath, it was safe to assume a lung had collapsed.

Malfoy needed to get to St. Mungo's, but he couldn't. For one, he was Draco Malfoy. For another, _he_ was Harry Potter.

Harry levitated his limp body onto the table, shoving his half-finished homework off and it fluttered to the ground. Malfoy was starting to come around. "Shit," He cursed, raising his wand and whispering, "_Accio potions!_"

"No... please don't... it hurts..." Malfoy whimpered, moving to his side in an attempt to curl in a ball and screaming in pain and jerking back.

Harry put his hands on his arm and stomach to keep him still. "Shh... Draco... it's okay, you're not there anymore. You'll be okay..." He didn't quite believe the words he was whispering, but he continued anyways.

He grabbed a bottle of the pain-reliever. "Malfoy... Draco... drink this. The pain will go away, but you've got to drink this. Come on!" He urged, uncorking the bottle.

"No please! It hurts!" The last word was more of a scream and he coughed up another mouthful of blood.

"This will stop the pain." Harry promised, wiping away the blood with his sleeve, having nothing else available. He poured the entire bottle down his throat. "Okay Malfoy, good. Now drink this one. It's a dreamless sleep potion." He held up the other bottle.

"Don't wanna die..." Came the defeated whisper.

Harry uncorked the bottle and held Malfoy's mouth open while he emptied that one down his throat as well. After a moment his laboured breathing quieted and the saviour of the wizarding world breathed a sigh of relief.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Butterfly Effect**

**By: Hobblefoot.11**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any of this, hence the disclaimer. Give credit to someone else so I don't get sued. Thanks!**

**Author's Note: To anyone who didn't know, I wanted to explain the title. The butterfly effect is when a butterfly beats its wings and half way around the world there is an earthquake. **

**Chapter Two: Hero's Can't do Everything Alone**

Harry consulted some of his books on healing. He knew he could help Malfoy. But not save him. There was too much damage for him to do it. He managed to fix his shoulders and mend his leg, but he didn't dare touch is ribs or try to mend his damaged lung. If only he had paid more attention in potions, he guessed Snape would have gone over some helpful potions. He mused.

Then.. Snape! Perfect. He could heal Malfoy, and then take him back to his house. Did the greasy old git even have a house? Granted, he had earned a bit more respect for him when he discovered he really was a spy, who had stopped working for Dumbledore last year, refusing to spy anymore.

He grabbed one of the quills he had shoved off the table to make room for Malfoy and blank piece of parchment, then quickly started writing.

_Professor Snape,_

_I need your help. It is of the upmost importance. I can't explain why in this letter. Meet me outside the Leaky Cauldron (the Muggle side) immediately, bring your potions. Don't tell Dumbledore._

_H. Potter_

It was brief and to the point. "Here Hedwig," He called his snow white owl, who obediently flew to him. "Take this to Professor Snape. Make sure he gets it immediately. Understand?" He looked into her intelligent eyes and was sure she did. "Good girl," He whispered as she nipped his finger and flew off through the window he opened and into the night sky.

"Please hurry, girl." He muttered to himself.

He checked on Malfoy one more time. His breathing was fairly steady, and he doubted he would die while he was gone. "Please don't die on me, Malfoy." Harry told the sleeping boy. The potion shouldn't wear off for several more hours, so he hoped he'd be alright.

He did not feel safe leaving his flat. Especially not at two in the morning. Anyone who save him would be suspicious, and he could not afford to be tracked. But he needed Snape here, or Malfoy would die. And as much as he had hated him in school, there was something different now. He was weak, tortured, alone, afraid, plagued by nightmares. He reminded Harry of himself the summer after fifth year.

He grabbed his jacket and through it over his shirt and jeans and double checked to make sure his wand was on him before leaving the house and going out into the streets of London. He recreated the small wards and locking spells, before walking a few blocks away from the flat and Apparating a little bit outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Luckily hardly anyone was out this time, and anyone driving by was too tired to pay attention to the black haired man who had appeared out of thin air.

Harry walked quickly to the Leaky Cauldron, unsurprised to see Snape hadn't arrived yet. He wasn't completely sure the man would even come, but he prayed he did.

He waited almost ten minutes before he debated whether or not to go to Hogwarts himself and fetch the potions master, and then he appeared. Walking swiftly out of the Leaky Cauldron with his black robes billowing around him, Professor Severus Snape glanced around for a moment before spotting Harry and striding quickly over to him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter." He said in the tone he usually reserved for potions class. "What was it that you felt the need to call me for at this infernal hour?"

"I need your help." Harry said quietly, making the man's black eyes swivel to look at him closer.

"_My _help? Surely you could have asked one of your little friends or the werewolf? But I desire you don't want Dumbledore told of your little late night escapee." He taunted him.

"Look, I need your help so could you please knock it off and stop acting all 'high and mighty' and come with me?" Harry demanded, sick of stalling.

Snape looked at him strangely. "You haven't even told me what for. Perhaps I'll just go back to bed and leave you to find your way back to your relatives in the dark. Or are you afraid?"

"I don't live with my relatives anymore. I left as soon as I could."

For a moment the sullen man seemed at a loss for words. "Tell me what you need help with." He said, his earlier attitude gone, probably thinking Harry had some Death Eater's waiting outside his house to attack him if he set foot outside.

"I've got a near-dead, ex-Death Eater bleeding to death on my kitchen table." Harry told him.

For once Snape looked surprised, than he looked worried and grateful. "You found Draco." He breathed.

"He found me," Harry corrected under his breath.

"Where are we going?" Snape asked, with a new tone of urgency. He had been at the meeting only hours ago when he had been forced to watch his Godson tortured. He had thanked his lucky stars when Draco had escaped, but he assumed if he didn't find him by morning he would die on the streets. And now Potter had turned up with him.

"Grab my arm. I'll Apparate us." Snape seemed to have no problem with latching on to his arm as he spun on his heel and disappeared.

They arrived a block away. "Come on." Harry urged, walking as quick as he could without running through the streets. Snape followed, hot on his heels.

When they got to the doorstep, Harry took a moment to take down the charms so they could enter, before putting them back up.

Snape went immediately to the kitchen, pulling out a bag of potions from beneath his robes. "Oh God," Harry heard him mutter in horror. "Potter." Harry jumped at the sound of his name. "Give me a run down."

"Yeah, okay." The teen muttered, trying to organize all his observations in his mind quickly before speaking on them, almost tripping on his own words in his haste to get them out. "Cracked, maybe broken ribs, collapsed lung, he had a broken leg but I fixed that, dislocated shoulders, fixed that too, effects of the Crutiartus, whip marks and some broken fingers."

"Slow down, Potter." Snape said, already pouring a potion down the injured teen's throat. "You need to stay calm."

"Yes sir. Um, is there anything I can do to help?"

"A wet cloth, I didn't bring any antibiotic potion –"

"I've got some... er, the Muggle stuff." Harry cut in.

"—scissors, and get a bed ready." He finished, his eyes still on the broken body of Draco Malfoy, his hands working rapidly over him. "Give me a blood-clotting potion!" He snapped abruptly.

Harry raised his wand. "Accio!" He whispered clearly, and the bottle flew to his hand, and he passed it to the professor. Then he gathered up the items that had been listed. Scissors and antibiotic's with a bit of magic, and he grabbed a facecloth and put it under the tap for a moment before ringing it out and putting the three objects on the table next to Malfoy.

Then he went to his bedroom, he had gotten a flat with just one, because he hadn't seen any need for another, and now he was regretted it. He quickly made it, having left it a mess the previous morning, and for a moment wished he was going to be the one sleeping in it. He pushed those thoughts aside and went back downstairs.

Snape was sitting in one of the wooden chairs, reclining, his eyes never straying from Malfoy's face. He didn't look at Harry as he walked in, but he whispered a thank you. It sounded like he was crying.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Butterfly Effect**

**By: Hobblefoot.11**

**Disclaimer: Give all the credit to the AMAZING Joanne Rowling.**

**Author's Note: I know Snape doesn't cry, but I love seeing the human side of him, hence the chapter title. Plus, he really loves Draco.**

**Chapter Three: We Are All Only Human**

"Do you want to me to levitate him to the bedroom?" Harry whispered quietly after a moment. Snape looked up at him, seemingly startled by his sudden appearance, but quickly masked it. The one thing he couldn't hide, however, was the all too obvious red around his eyes.

"I'll do it." The potions master, pulling his wand from his robes and rising to his feet.

"It's down the hall and to the left."

For a moment, Harry thought Snape would reply with a snarky remark he was so used to hear coming from his mouth, and a sneer worthy of Lucius Malfoy, but the moment passed as he gently levitated his Godson off the table and down the hall.

Harry was left alone in the room, starring at the blood covered table, the ripped shreds of clothing and various empty bottles, from Muggle medicines and potions alike, scattered across the floor.

Then reality came crashing down on his. Severus Snape was in his flat. He could tell Dumbledore where he was, alert the entire Order, and then Harry would never find a way to hind from him. Perhaps bringing the professor here was the wrong choice, but Harry was sure Malfoy would not be alive if it wasn't for the snarky old man.

He busied himself cleaning the kitchen, vanishing the ripped clothing, placing the bottle son the counter and casting a quick Scourgify on the table. He knew he would never be able to eat there again without seeing the mangled body of his school nemesis lying there.

His homework was ruined, some covered in blood, and one piece of parchment ripped in half from where it must have gotten stepped on, most crumpled. He wasn't complaining, despite the fact that it had taken him hours to ground out, it had not been good work.

Snape came back out from the bedroom just as Harry finished cleaning the kitchen. He didn't thank him again, but Harry knew he was grateful.

It was early, and both men were obviously tired, but neither moved to lay down somewhere.

Snape slumped down in a chair, looking both defeated and yet sill triumphant.

"He'll live?" Harry questioned.

"Yes." The older man muttered wearily. Harry had already known the answer, but he felt better hearing it come from him.

"Are you going to tell Dumbledore I'm here?" He asked next, moments later.

There was another pause, in which he assumed Snape was working up the energy to answer. "I do not see how it is any of my business."

"Are you staying here? With Malfoy, I mean, because you both can, if you want too." He said somewhat hesitantly, tanking his lucky stars the professor was to worn out to bother with petty insults anymore.

"It would be unwise to leave. I have nowhere to take Draco where he would be safe from either Death Eater's or Albus' interrogations. That is the last thing he needs now." His head dropped and his eyelids closed, showing he was asleep.

Harry moved to the living room area, and transfigured the couch into a bed. He then shook the potions master awake. "Snape! Come on! Come to bed, then you can sleep." He felt utterly ridiculous as he practically dragged the man to the living room, and dropped him on the newly made bed. He then used the handy spell that removed your robes, and was semi-surprised to see him wearing Muggle jeans and a grey shirt. With a shrug, the Boy-Who-Lived summoned an extra blanket from the bedroom and draped it over the man's form.

He went to the kitchen and gratefully sunk into the seat Snape had previously occupied, quickly falling into an uncomfortable sleep in the early hours of the morning.

**(Switch to Snape's point of view)**

Severus awoke to the sound of muffled sobs. It took a moment for him to realise where he was, before the events of the previous night came crashing down on him.

Draco injured, Potter helping him, staying at Potter's flat. And when had the boy even moved out of Privite Drive? Surely Albus didn't know about it, and seeing as he didn't want to Severus to tell the headmaster, he knew he was correct.

He vaguely realised that he was no longer wearing his robes, and that they were draped over a chair on the opposite side of the room, and guessed the Potter brat must have removed them. He knew he had been too magically exhausted to bother.

There was another whimper coming from the kitchen. He cast a quick spell which told him it was almost noon, and then Severus managed to drag himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

Immediately he saw Potter lying on the floor, thrashing in his sleep. The knocked over chair beside the Chosen One proposed he had fallen asleep in it and then fallen off.

"How could you let the Malfoy boy escape, Rockwood?" Potter hissed harshly in his sleep, and it took Severus a moment to realise it wasn't the boy speaking, but the Dark Lord. He had known the teen had visions, but he had been unaware that in them Potter was actually the Dark Lord.

"Potter!" Severus hissed, bending down beside the boy. "Potter!" He repeated, this time louder, grabbing him by the shoulders in an attempt to wake him.

"Harry!"

And Potter's eyes snapped open, but instead of staring into familiar bright green eyes, the potions master found himself staring deep into a pair of startling red eyes that he knew belonged to the Dark Lord.

**Not as long as I had hoped, but hey, what are you going to do? Please review, I love getting feedback, positive and negative. **


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